To Me
by xx QuietContemplation xx
Summary: What is about them—him—that makes all his carefully constructed walls collapse? A oneshot in Sasuke’s point of view about seeing his team after nearly three years.


**Summary: **What is about them—_him_—that makes all his carefully constructed walls collapse? A oneshot in Sasuke's point of view about seeing his team after nearly three years.

**A/N: **I always find fics about Naruto and Sasuke's first meeting in shippuden in _Naruto's_ point of view, but I wanted to see something different. I kept wondering what Sasuke was thinking behind that blank face of his, so I went and wrote a quick one-shot myself. :D Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Naruto; this is for fun, not profit.

* * *

**To Me**

* * *

"This is unacceptable, Sasuke-kun." Orochimaru's hand flashes out and a deep line of red appears on the bare chest of teen facing him.

"You are better than this! You should not be thinking, should not be _hesitating_!" The Sannin easily dodges the swift thrust of the chokuto that immediately follows his scolding.

"I'm not hesitating," Sasuke answers calmly, his voice at odds with his smoothly irritated motions. They've been training for hours, and Orochimaru isn't one to pull punches. They started out with taijutsu, then moved on to ninjutsu and kenjutsu. Sasuke has performed brilliantly so far, but Orochimaru can tell there is something on his mind—no matter how hard he tries to hide it. And he is sure he knows what it is, too. Or rather, _who_.

Even though his motions are as lithe and deadly as always, there is just something off. Perhaps it is his eyes—the swirling Sharingan does not disguise the fact that the Uchiha's thoughts are elsewhere. Or maybe his moves are the slightest bit slower, as if he is taking too much time to second-guess each move instead of acting on that finely honed instinct of his. It might even be that his usual mask of a face is creased in an uncharacteristic show of frustration, but not because he is losing.

Yes, Orochimaru thinks, he knows exactly what his little student is so hung up over.

Hiding a smirk, Orochimaru abruptly blocks Sasuke's swing. Orochimaru has spent nearly three years observing his young genius; he is quite sure attempting to make him pay more attention will do little but cause him to be even more insufferable than he already is. Better to deny him his precious power, to redirect all of that useless angst into a cold anger that will work in his favor.

With a quick twist of his hand, he knocks the distracted teenager's sword out of his hand (further proving his point that Sasuke is simply unteachable today).

"Enough," Orochimaru states firmly. "I will not waste my time on one who doesn't wish to learn."

Sasuke lowers his arms, panting. He tosses his head, flinging back the sweat-soaked bangs sticking to his forehead. His brow creases, but Orochimaru can't tell if it's because of confusion or irritation. His eyes smolder resentfully and he blinks, fixing his steady gaze on Orochimaru. For a moment, his lips part and the Sannin is sure he's going to protest, to insist in his usual selfish, stubborn manner that they continue.

He doesn't.

In between one heaving breath and another, his eyelids slowly slip shut. When they open, red is onyx once more. He straightens from his stance, grabs his sword from the dust where it fell, and sheaths it smoothly behind his back.

Orochimaru feels almost disappointed in him. When he speaks, his voice is calm but there is an edge that wasn't there previously. "We will continue tomorrow morning where we left off."

It is a clear dismissal.

Orochimaru doesn't move, just watches as Sasuke manages to begin to gracefully haul his battered body back to his quarters. As he passes out through the doorway of the enormous training room, he calls out to him.

"And Sasuke-kun…?"

The boy pauses reluctantly, doesn't turn back to face Orochimaru. Onyx eyes meet the golden gaze of the Sannin out of the very edge of his vision. He waits, head tilted arrogantly to show he is listening.

A chilling, cunning smile splits Orochimaru's pale face in half. "I was sure you had matured enough to cut yourself free of such hindering "bonds". It seems I was wrong. Please be sure to do so by tomorrow, or it will be no different from today and we will get nowhere." His polite, too-pleasant voice hides a thinly veiled warning that is all too real.

Sasuke's eyes narrow infinitesimally and his mouth turns up in a silent scowl that he knows Orochimaru cannot see. Without another word, Sasuke stalks away from those critically dissatisfied golden eyes.

Not one person Sasuke comes across in the narrow hallways of the underground base is brave enough to look the incensed Uchiha in the eye. Sasuke keeps his face schooled in a careful façade of calm, but the ire rolling from him in waves is all too easy to sense. They all bow low, staring meekly at the ground. Freezing there until he has safely passed on, as if afraid to become a convenient target for his anger.

He doesn't spare them a glance. All their groveling, fawning—it's despicable. Such sycophants are beneath his notice.

When he is safely inside the privacy of his room, Sasuke allows his animosity to appear. His movements are no longer easy, but stiff, jerky. He paces, unable to remain in one place. Damn that Orochimaru for canceling the rest of his practice like that!

He's not a fool—he knows today's training went horribly, and it is his fault, but it wasn't like he was _trying _to perform so badly.

Up until the day yesterday, in fact, he was making real progress. Typical that that's when things had to go wrong.

Sasuke exhales heavily, more of a wordless snarl than a sigh. Before yesterday, everything was fine. The day before yesterday, he didn't have a roaring headache and a twitching eye. The day before yesterday, he didn't lose his concentration and focus while training. The day before yesterday, he hadn't seen his old teammates in three years.

But yesterday? Yesterday had disturbed everything just when it was settling into place. For more than two and a half years, Sasuke's routine was uninterrupted. Every day he trained, alone or with the Sannin, avoided the other Sound Ninja, plotted to kill his brother, and refused to remember his life before he arrived at the base.

It seemed his past life does not want to let him forget.

At first, he hadn't known they all came. It was just that black haired stray that Orochimaru and Kabuto had picked up on their way home, the one who so foolishly attempted to attack him alone. Sasuke snorts, amused. As if he could be taken prisoner by the likes of him.

Of course Team 7 would need another member with him gone, but Sasuke had never given much thought to who would be replacing him. When Sakura sprinted out of the demolished base and joined the freak—that was when he realized that a weakling that bore a striking resemblance to him took his position.

Hm. They'd probably chosen him just for that reason, he thinks haughtily. He's not annoyed that they replaced him, but rather that they'd done it with such pathetic ninja. Honestly. Was there no one else willing to put up with the other two members of the team? Preferably, one that _didn't _appear to be a poor look-alike of himself? But then again, should he care at all? Because he doesn't (does he?).

Just like that, any traces of amusement the teen has are wiped away.

Somehow, Sasuke had fixed an image of his teammates in his mind as kids. An image of young, immature, _weak _kids—at least when he compared them to himself as he grew stronger every day.

Well it was clear to him now. He wasn't the only one who'd grown.

Sakura looked nothing like the simpering, foolish fangirl she used to be. She had an air of self-confidence about her, a belief that her abilities could keep her safe. He didn't get to see what caused such a change in her, but it was there all the same. It was apparent even as she gazed up at him, awestruck. Not that he really cared that she was different. It just made him a bit…curious.

Sasuke had watched the tunnel, expecting and hoping and dreading to see Kakashi come bursting out behind the others. Hoping because he was interested in see his old sensei, seeing his reaction to how strong he'd gotten. Dreading because, even though he'd never admit it, he never wanted to see the disapproval he knew would be in that gaze.

He never got to work out whether or not he wanted to see Kakashi, because in the next moment the choice was made for him. A jounin walked out to join the group, a jounin without silver hair and an eternally lazy gray eye. Sasuke spared him one dismissive glance (and concluded he was young, strange-looking, and overall not very impressive), before finally focusing all his attention on those blue eyes he'd avoided looking into until then.

From that moment until now, they are all he sees. Eyes that put the sky to shame. Blazing, brilliant blue eyes.

Those eyes hold his mind captive, ensare his thoughts and tangle his beliefs.

They make him doubt.

"_To me, it's a bond…I've finally been able to establish." _

Naruto's voice echoes in his mind, and Sasuke's vow never think of his past shatters as long-forgotten memories are dredged up in his rare lapse of resolve.

What happened to his certainty, his confidence?

What is about them—_him_—that makes all his carefully constructed walls collapse?

Why won't they stop screwing with his mind?

Why can't they just _leave him alone_?

All of his pent up frustration explodes and Sasuke slams his fist through the wooden wardrobe pressed against the wall. He pauses, breathing hard as he stares at his fist and the ragged new hole in his furniture. Furious for himself at his loss of temper, Sasuke yanks his hand back out, ignoring the slivers of wood embedded in his skin. Blood wells quickly, trickling over his fingers and dripping silently to the stone floor. He watches the red puddle grow, drop by drop.

Sasuke clenches his fists tightly, barely feeling the white-hot flash of pain from his injured hand. His body is taut, shaking slightly.

"To me," He growls, crimson eyes roiling and churning with emotion he struggles to suppress. "You are…" He curls his lip in disdain, fingernails carving pale half-moons into his palms.

"You are _nothing_!"

And even in all his fury he knows he is lying.


End file.
